


In His Image

by KaraMJordan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Body Modification, Casual Sex, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Swearing, past mindcontrol, un-betaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaraMJordan/pseuds/KaraMJordan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki tried to take over the Earth, he took over the minds of a small goup of people to help him. But to a God humans are so weak, so Loki altered them slightly to make them stronger, faster, and more like himself.<br/>OR<br/>The one where Loki altered all of his puppets during the Avengers to be more like himself, and that includes the ability to carry children. Cue Clint Barton getting the shock of his life a few months down the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed and subject to alteration at any point. Updates will be slow, at least until after my dissertation is done.

The music was loud enough to be concerned with hearing damage, the rhythm sneaking under his skin, making his blood pump. Leaning back against the bar, Clint surveyed the sea of young, attractive people writing against each other under the pretense of dancing. Nursing his drink he let his eyes rest on a dark haired man across the room. The stranger looked back, licking his lips.  
  
He would do.  
  
Knocking back his drink, the agent slowly made his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes locked on the dark stranger.  
  
The final steps before reaching his destination he made sure to sway his hips suggestively, watching the stranger’s pupils dilate with lust. Leaning in until his lips nearly touched the other man’s ear, he asked:  
  
“Wanna get out of here?”  
  
***  
  
They ended up at a crappy motel a few blocks away. It didn’t matter; Clint wasn’t here to be wooed.  
  
As soon as the door closed behind them the stranger backed Clint into the wall, pushing their hips together and kissing him roughly. Clint moaned in response, opening his legs wider in invitation. He was rewarded with a knee pressing against his dick.  
  
“Clothes off, now,” the man demanded.  
  
“Pushy, huh? I can get behind that,” Clint teased.  
  
“You’re still not naked,” was the prompt response from the brunette, who was busy stripping.  
  
The archer got with the program quickly, peeling off his t-shirt and pants in record time.  
  
Before long he found himself on all fours on the bed, the other man pushing a lubed-up finger into him non-too-gently.  
  
“Just like that. Come on, get me ready,” Clint moaned, pressing down to take the entire digit in. He was rewarded with a second finger and a slap to his thigh for his impatience. That only made him more desperate.  
  
The stranger chuckled. “Like that, do you, slut?” The fingers inside him suddenly found that magic spot that made Clint’s head spit. “Please,” he begged.  
  
Adding a third finger before withdrawing them to wipe on Clint’ thigh, the stranger shuffled off the bed to grap his pants. Checking the pockets, he swore a blue streak. “Do you have any condoms?”  
  
Fuck! Without condoms, sex with a stranger went from being a bad idea to being moronic. And Clint didn’t care. He needed this, needed to get out of his mind for a while, needed to forget.  
  
“I’m clean. Just fuck me already.”  
  
He could see the other man’s internal debate, before he, too, decided he wanted this far more than he cared about using condoms. _You know how to pick ‘em, Barton._  
  
Even with the prep it was a tight fit. The stranger didn’t let him adjust, roughly thrusting into the archer over and over. It was perfect.  
Clint wiggled until he could get a hand on himself, quickly bringing himself to orgasm. The other man followed with a hoarse shout.  
When he caught his breath again, Clint slid out from the half asleep brunette and quickly got dressed. “It’s been real,” he drawled. He got a grunt in response. Grinning, he slipped out the door.  
  
***  
  
It was a few weeks and a clusterfuck of a mission in southern France that the doorbell to his off-base apartment rang.  
  
Cursing his job, the archer dragged himself from bed where he had been hoping to catch a few hours of shuteye. Fully prepared to tell SHIELD to fuck off if the world wasn’t ending, he threw open the front door.  
  
“Hello, Robin Hood, did you know your neighborhood sucks? You should come live in Sherwood with the rest of the merry men instead,” Tony Stark announced while pushing his way into the apartment.  
  
Resigned, Clint closed the door behind him and followed the billionaire into what passed for his living room.  
  
“Wow, is this how the other side lives? This place is the size of a shoebox. Not to worry, you won’t be staying here for much longer, Legolas.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about.” Okay, maybe Clint was a bit grumpy, but he had spent the better part of a week hunched on a rooftop waiting for a kill order, followed by another few days getting his freaking handler back from terrorist and then defending his actions to two governments and SHIELD’s upper management. Not his idea of a good time.  
  
“We are the Avengers. The Avengers are us. I am moving everyone into the tower, so we can avenge better when the next egomaniac God decides he want to rule us. The rest have already moved in while you were on holiday in Europe or whatever you were doing. So now I’m only missing you. I don’t like incomplete collections, just ask Pepper, so you have to move in too,” Tony rambled.  
  
Clint’s head was spinning, but he wasn’t one of SHIELD’s top assets for nothing.  
  
“You want me to move into Stark Tower?”  
  
“The Avengers Tower,” he was corrected.  
  
“Whatever,” the blonde snorted. “You get that I was against you for half the, what was it, ‘egomaniac God’, thingy, right?”  
  
“Because of freaky alien God mind control, yes, and then you kicked ass with the rest of us, making you an Avenger,” Tony announced cheerfully. “Besides, I talked to your landlord and got your contract cancelled, so you have until tomorrow at noon to move out.”  
  
Had this been anyone else, Clint would have punched them by now, but Tony Stark had a weird kind of charm and Clint was exhausted.  
  
“You want me to move? Fine. Just don’t expect me to do the heavy lifting.”  
  
The genius grinned maniacally in response.  
  
***  
  
Living at the tower was strangely nice. Sure there were tensions, five headstrong people living in a confined space, however large, was bound to cause some butting of heads, but by and large they all got along.  
  
The best thing about the tower was that Natasha was there. She was one of the few people Clint actually trusted to have his back, plus she always had really good vodka for when things went to shit.  
  
Getting his ass kick by a girl on a daily basis wasn’t his idea of fun, however.  
  
“Jeesh, Nat, you know we are in the same team, right? If I get called out on a mission and can’t lift my arms because you have broken them, it’ll be your fault.”  
  
He could feel her grin from where she was seated on his lower back. “My fault that your reflexes are so slow? I don’t think so, little bird. Do you give?”  
  
He tested the grip she had on his wrists, but with his arms twisted halfway out of their sockets (or at least that’s what it felt like) he had no choice. “Fuck you, Nat, I give.”  
  
Gracefully she rolled off him and onto her heels. He followed her up a bit slower, his arms still protesting after their rough treatment. She wasn’t wrong though, his reflexes were much slower than usual. Probably due to the exhaustion he had been feeling ever since France. Though it had been a few weeks the fatigue had yet to go away, and it was messing with him.  
  
Nat regarded him impassively. Only years of working with her made him able to read her concern. He shook his head slightly.  _Nothing to worry about. Just off my game today._  
  
She let it go. “Banner is cooking lunch. Want to go steal some?”  
  
***  
When he almost fell asleep at his perch while waiting for the target to come home, Clint started to get worried. This was starting to mess with his professionalism. Instead of blowing off post-mission medical as he usually would, he asked to see a doctor. The nurse looked at him as to say who are you and what have you done with agent Barton? He shrugged at her and gave her his most charming smile.  
  
She was clearly unimpressed, but went to find a doctor anyway.  
  
The doctor asked him about his sleeping habits. If he a had nightmares, perhaps connected to his time being Loki’s puppet? Clint gave him a dirty look, turning it into a glare when the doctor suggested a psychiatrist might be more of help to him. Seeing his face, the doctor sighed and ordered some blood tests to be done. “Just in case, okay.”  
  
Thanks to SHIELD’s excellent medical budget it did not take long to process his blood. Thanks to the staffs incompetence, they had to draw his blood twice more before telling him what was wrong. He was considering calling the shrink down to talk to the doctor (surely the man couldn’t be this much of an idiot and still work for SHIELD) when the man himself came back with his test result and a frown on his face.  
  
“Let me guess, it’s a particularly stubborn viral infection and there is nothing to be done except wait it out?” Clint snarked at the man. He had to stop hanging out with Tony so much; the man was a bad influence.  
  
This time it was the doctor’s turn to give him a dirty look. “Actually, agent Barton, what you are, is pregnant.”  
  
Clint burst out in laughter. “Yeah, sure I am. I don’t know if you’ve notices this, doc, but I am not a woman.”  
  
“I am well aware of that. Yet all the tests we have run say the same thing. You are pregnant. About two months along, if I had to guess.”  
  
 _Well, hell._  
  
Clint’s mind was spinning. He was a man. This could not be possible. They had to be playing a prank on him. But one look at the physician’s face told him this was not a joke at all.  
  
 _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_


	2. Part 2

Luckily, he did not have to make any decisions for the next few hours, as the medical staff performed test after test on him.  Clint tried his very best not to think. About anything. _Just breathe. In and out. Just breathe, Barton._

Eventually, it was over. Doctor Yorke asked Clint to step into his office.

It turned out the fetuswas indeed about two months developed. And that Clint now had all the parts necessary to carry a child to term, though the birth itself would have to be a caesarian.

“How the hell did this happen?” Clint asked angrily.

“We have no idea. But comparing your full body scan from today with your previous scan six months ago, it would seem this is a recent development. Have anything unusual happened in the last six months?”

“You mean other than being mind raped and attacking my own colleagues? And, oh yeah, I’ve apparently become a superhero now. Is that what you mean by unusual?”

The sad thing was that in terms of his shitty life, even the craziness of the last half year was comparatively normal. Or it had been, up until he had gotten _freaking pregnant._

“Right,” the doctor sighed. “No matter. I am pulling you off active duty and scheduling you for a psych evaluation first thing in the morning…”

“Hell no!” the archer protested.

“…because this is a lot to deal with even for women. You have to make a decision whether to proceed with the pregnancy or not, and either way I want you to talk to someone about it. So no protests, agent.”

Silently seething, Clint did sort of understand where the doctor was coming from. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

***

“Spar, Barton?” Natasha asked a few days later. “You are getting lazy and it has been days since I kicked your ass.”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

“You scared to get beaten by a girl, Katniss?” Tony asked. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. HE probably hadn’t; Stark had a tendency to get caught up in whatever it was he was doing in the lab.

“I don’t see you lining up to spar with her, goatee.” Clint replied.

Tony shrugged. “I am definitely scared to get beaten by a girl. Though I’m not sure the Widow can be considered a girl.”

Natasha smiled at him. The same smile she aimed at targets just before she cut their throats. She was fucking terrifying when she smiled.

Tony gulped. “Not that you’re not girly. And by girly I mean womanly. With those curves… I mean… Please don’t kill me.”

Natasha just kept smiling at him.

“Did you hear that? I need to go check on that… noise. Yeah, uh, bye,” the genius kept rambling while walking backwards down the corridor.

Waiting until Tony was out of hearing distance, Clint started to laugh. Nat gave him a genuine smile, the closest she ever came to laughing.

“I love it when you do that,” Clint grinned. Just not when she did it to him.

When he first brought the Black Widow into SHIELD she had trusted no one. Not even him, not that he blamed her. It had taken years of working together before she let her guard down enough to allow him and Coulson to see the more human sides of her.

And then Budapest happened, and the only way they had gotten through that snake pit was by having each other’s backs.

Now Coulson was gone and he only had Natasha left.

“You want to talk about it?” the other agent asked.

_There is a baby inside of me._ The words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t ready yet. He hadn’t been able to say those words to himself yet, not to speak of his therapist or his doctor, who both knew.

Shaking his head he could practically see Nat’s worry increase. She squeezed his arm. _I’m here when you are ready._

_I know. I just need more time._

Giving him a curt nod, she left, and Clint let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually include all of the team, I promise.


End file.
